“Great work! I just can’t… Wow… Why don’t you take a ten minute break while I take this message?” Howie Dorough communicated through the intercom system of his recording studio, waiting for his hopeful starlet to signal in agreement from the sound booth. When she smiled sweetly and popped both thumbs upward, he immediately turned to the opposite intercom system that specifically kept him in touch with his secretary. He had been known as the “gadget-guru” amongst his band-mates, especially when they toured about the world, so it was no surprise that his music producing business would be any different. In fact, since signing a few local artists, he had actually allowed himself the upgrades to take in his current project. So, when the intercom crackled to life, he asked what was needed since being beeped several times during the recording. It was unusual for him to forward a call, but since discovering this new talent he had found himself distancing. For the first time since working on the newest project for the Backstreet Boys, he had immersed himself within the creative process for another potentially award winning singer. When he was with her, he did not want to be bothered for minor inconveniences. Something about her extraordinary talent demanded his full concentration—
“I am so sorry to interrupt, Mr. Dorough, but you have some very important guests—”
“UNCLE HOWIE!”
Whirling around in his thick leather chair, Howie’s dark coffee eyes widened in delight at seeing the small bundle of energy come exploding through the production studio. Like usual, she and her father had not bothered to wait for the secretary to buzz them in. Instead, they simply signaled to her and walked straight back, but Howie didn’t mind. Nick had always been the adopted little brother within the Dorough family. And Charlotte was his goddaughter after all and she deserved the perks of such an important position. “Charlie!”
“Today’s my birthday!” Charlotte exclaimed, making sure to remind him of the special occasion as she jumped onto his lap. Throwing her arms about his neck, she smacked several kisses to his beard-roughened face. “Are you coming to my party?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Howie assured, squeezing her playfully as if he were using all his might. When she giggled, he rubbed his stubble-ridden cheek against hers and helped her settle in his lap. Taking a quick glance at her, he smiled ruefully at the state of her appearance. Her long flaxen locks were tossed into a high ponytail, because Nick could hardly manage a French braid without creating a rat’s nest of knots. Then, her wardrobe consisted of a pair of frayed jean-shorts, baggy Journey band t-shirt, and two mismatched socks – one orange and one blue. “…Did the maid forget to do laundry?”
“You know we do our own laundry,” Nick scuffed, collapsing onto the empty executive chair after rooting through the mini-fridge to retrieve a soda. Popping the top, he took a long swallow, still somewhat groggy from Charlotte’s wakeup call.
“And I know that you matched the socks, because I can still remember those years on tour where you’d end up with a bright pink sock and a black one together, but still go out on stage like you were the hottest thing this side of the equator.”
“Call it a experiment in creative expression,” Nick retorted with a sly smirk. “Besides, PJ loves it when her Daddy matches socks, right?”
“Yes’m,” Charlotte agreed with a vigorous nod, lifting her legs for Howie’s inspection. “See Uncle Howie, I got orange and blue in my shirt! They match!”
“No arguing with the Carter logic,” Howie acquiesced, tickling Charlotte till she squealed with laughter. “…So, how is my favorite birthday girl?”
“Anxious!” Charlotte confessed with a huff of a breath, grinning cheekily when Howie’s dark eyes bulged in surprise. “What?”
“Do you even know what anxious means?”
“Crazy ‘cited?”
Glancing to Nick with amusement, Howie shook his head. “Don’t let your father tell you what words mean anymore. Okay, Charlie?”
“Okay, Uncle Howie,” Charlotte agreed with a meaningless shrug of her shoulders before sliding off his lap. Glancing about the studio, she made sure to do a quick sweep of the entire area, looking for something wrapped in brightly colored paper. Howie had always been the one to give her a birthday present before her party, no matter what her father said.
“What are you looking for, PJ?” Nick called casually, already knowing the answer, but finding her sneakiness entertaining.
“…Nothing…” Charlotte drawled out, throwing an expectant look toward Howie.
“You look like you’re trying to find something pretty important…” Howie trailed.
“No…” Charlotte promised, glancing causally toward her father to observe his features. When he raised his dark blonde brows in question, she released a soft sigh and went to peer inside the recording booth. She knew better than to ask for a gift, especially since she would receive many gifts later in the evening. But, when she noticed the bright pink gift nestled in the corner, she squealed. “Uncle Howie! Is that for me?!”
“You know any other little girl that I love so much with a birthday today?” Howie asked with a chuckle.
“No!”
“Then I suppose that’s for you?”
“Great!” Charlotte cried, racing into the sound booth and diving at the package as if it were a lifeline.
“D, you really didn’t have to give her something before the party,” Nick murmured, though he smiled just the same when Charlotte’s jubilee carried into their area. She was so enthralled with life and it gave him hope for a better world. And Howie had been there to give Nick the support to nurture such a wondrous child, ever since the beginning when the others had doubted his abilities, and he owed Howie so much for that.
“You’re just afraid that I’m going to show you up like last year,” Howie teased lightly.
“Because she really needed a Fisherprice Digital Camera. Jesus, D, do you know how many pictures she has of me surprised in the shower? Ripping the damn glass door open and shrieking… If the media gets hold of that, I’m going to be fucked harder than a virgin on a island of horny men—”
“You’re still such a Drama Queen—”
“Hey, Princess Hair-Do, watch who you’re calling a Queen!”
Howie opened his mouth to defend his need for perfection when it came to hair styling, but Charlotte appeared in the doorway connection the recording station with the sound-booth. Her expression was somewhat mute compared to her electrified personality. So much so that Nick sat up from his slouched position in the leather chair and beckoned her close. “What’d Uncle D get you, PJ?”
“I got a dress,” Charlotte announced, casting an exasperated look toward her father as she held up the present. Sure enough, Howie had taken it upon himself to buy Charlotte a beautiful outfit. The dress jumper was made of light tan colored corduroy and paired with a lavender shirt and matching stockings. Most little girls would have squealed in a fit of joy for such beautiful clothing, but Charlotte was not impressed. She had spent all four years of her life in shorts, jeans, overalls, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and tank tops. Being both father and mother for her, Nick hadn’t the knowledge to teach her femininity. Instead, her raised her as best as he could.
“D…” Nick trailed with a hard groan.
“I just thought it’d be easier for you to dress her if you didn’t have to worry about two pant legs! Just think, one hole for the legs and she’s ready!” Howie insisted.
“You try this on every birthday, Christmas, Easter, and—”
“Can I play in the booth?” Charlotte suddenly inquired, pushing the new clothing into her father’s lap.
“PJ, you know that Uncle D has been pretty busy working with—”
“She’s actually taking a break right now,” Howie intervened before Nick could dismiss his daughter’s request. Whenever she visited the studio, Charlotte had always managed to get into the sound-booth, charming whatever producer to record her singing. Howie had dozens of CDs about his office of her songs, which he always played when he was in need of some uplifting. So, sliding his chair toward the recording station, he grinned. “What are you singing for me today, Charlie?”
“Um… If You Want It To Be Good Girl—”
Nick immediately groaned, “Must she insist on reminding me of my puberty?”
“Nicky, she is a reminder of your puberty.”
“I was twenty-three when she was born, thank-you-very-fucking-much.”
“Just get in there and help your daughter with the headphones.”
Fussing with the soundboard and preparing the music to filter through the headphones, Howie waited for Nick to prep the sound-booth to accommodate Charlotte’s small stature. She was bouncing about the room like a bundle of electrified atoms till Nick seized her up and tickled her. For days that she visited, Howie always kept a smaller size of headphones as well as a larger stool so she could reach the microphone. She loved to sing and dance, something she had inherited from her father and godfathers. Howie remembered several warming sessions on the Never Gone Tour when Baylee and Charlotte had commandeered the stage for their own performance. It took only a minimal amount of time to set up for her, so when she flashed a toothy grin and Nick excused himself from the booth, Howie started the music. Motioning for Nick to join him, he watched as she belted out the lyrics. She knew every song that the Backstreet Boys’ had ever sang, released or unreleased.
“It always amazes me when I watch her sing...” Howie explained as Nick joined him.
“She has dozens of copies of all our CDs in her bedroom and she listens to them while she sleeps. Why should it surprise you?” Nick questioned, unable to hide his proud smile when Charlotte looked his way for encouragement. Waving her on, he chuckled when she did a little dance, throwing her hands upon her hips to bring her usual sassiness to the song.
“Nicky, she’s got an amazing talent for music. With the proper training—”
“You can’t sign her just yet, D. I’m not pushing her into the music business. I know she’s got a gift, but I want her to develop a love for it. I want her to tell me that she wants it. Not the other way around. Y’know?”
“Makes sense, besides, I’m busy enough with Hannah—”
“Oh! So she actually has a name? Because every time I call, you say you’ve got to go because you’re working with her. For all I know, it ain’t music that you’re working on—”
“I do not mix business with pleasure! And I sure as Hell wouldn’t compromise Hannah’s amazing talent—”
“But you’ll boot me out of my recording slot, Howie?”
Jerking upward from his familiar slouched position in the chair, Nick actually felt a firm blush pour into his cheeks at the sound of a sweetly feminine voice invading a personal conversation. And, when he connected the voice to a physical person, he was unable to form any proper sentence of welcoming. If it had been four years early, he would have easily offered a sexual innuendo, mischievous smile, and lured her to the nearest dark corner. But four years of celibacy for the sake of his daughter had damn near obliterated any sexual prowess he had developed in years of stardom.
Besides, even though Howie had been gushing about his new starlet for weeks now, his compliments to her beauty hardly seemed adequate when a man actually met her. She was taller than most women, perhaps about eight inches over five feet, with an sweet outline of curves enhanced by her athletic toning. Her bust was larger than most, but she did nothing to draw attention to that area. Instead, she had dressed herself in layers for the chilly central air of the recording studio, matching a citrus orange zip-up hoodie over a white tank top, a pair of torn, low-riding jeans, and cheap citrus orange flip-flops. Her skin was a light, creamy caramel coloring from California’s blazing sun, just a light kiss from the sun’s rays with no apparent desperation to compulsively bake to a dark bronze. Her long spiral curls were a light golden brown interweaved with natural, dark blonde highlights. Gathered into a high ponytail, even her hair seemed to be spun from the richest gold mines. In all simplicity, she just seemed to glow within the room.
“Hannah!” Howie chuckled, immediately rising to his feet to welcome her despite Nick’s failure to react. “You know I’d never give away your time. You’re far too important to me! And this label! You’re going to make me a millionaire… Again!”
“You say that to all your clients, don’t you?” Hannah teased good-naturedly, lightly patting Howie’s cheek as if she were dismissing him as a senile old man. Her voice was as smooth as the sweetest honey, which complimented her southern drawl. And the little mouth that allowed the warm words to flow was glimmering with a fresh coat of lip-gloss. The light rose-colored lips begged to be controlled by another while her large, almond-shaped, turquoise eyes sparkled like jewels. Even the dark freckle beneath the outer corner of her left eye was charming. A stunning creature of the opposite sex. “I bet you said it to the little darling in the booth, too.”
“She’s a harder client to please, trust me,” Howie laughed, bringing his arm about her petite waist to draw her close. “And this man right here is her manager. He’s absolutely brutal to negotiate with. Won’t let her in the studio for less than three extra-large, extra cheesy pizzas.”
“Then maybe I should hire him,” Hannah mused, turning her beautiful turquoise eyes upon Nick. Tilting her head to the side slightly, she seemed to take in the very essence of him before offering a gentle smile. “Hi, my name’s Hannah Moore.”
“Nick Carter,” he mumbled uneasily, awkwardly clearing his throat underneath her observant gaze. He had never considered himself a living sex-god, but he knew he wasn’t revolting. At least, he hoped he didn’t look revolting as he took a quick look down to his tan leather sandals, khaki shorts, and forest green t-shirt and took a quick sweep of his hands through his platinum streaked blonde locks. He had surpassed six feet in height many years ago and worked out at the gym regularly to keep the taut tone of his arms. He hadn’t the ripped abdominal muscles that most women loved to touch, but more of a rounded abdomen that women squealed was so adorable. His sapphire eyes were of the darkest blue, resembling the deepest reaches of a clean ocean. He had caught many women’s phone numbers in the peak hours of the hottest clubs—
“It’s really nice to meet another one of Howie’s band-mates. I met Mr. Littrell—ah—Brian in Kentucky when Howie first came to me... But, well, it’s just really nice to meet you,” Hannah enthused, reaching out to shake his hand somewhat vigorously. “Howie’s told me so much about you and—”
“Uncle Howie, I hope you got that ‘cause it was my best pe’formance ever!” Charlotte interceded as she stepped into the middle of the trio. Of course, her demands had simmered into a piqued curiosity as she regarded the new woman. Immediately reaching out for the cuff of her father’s khaki shorts, Charlotte pulled herself close to him for protection, sapphire eyes widening. “Who are you?”
“This is Hannah, the new singer that Uncle D is working with,” Nick explained to his daughter, wondering what had caused her sudden streak of shyness. Usually she had no problem offering an adoring smile to a stranger. “Can you tell her your name and say hey?”
Looking up at her father for encouragement, Charlotte then took a careful step toward Hannah. And when Hannah bent down to meet Charlotte’s height, a delighted grin broke onto her cherubic face. Not many adults had taken the time to come to her level. So, observing Hannah for a moment and reaching out to touch a golden brown curl, she finally spoke, “You’re pretty.”
Hannah’s turquoise eyes lit with a delighted surprise, which was mirrored through a beautifully pleased facial expression. Leaning forward, she tucked some of Charlotte’s loose flaxen locks behind her pierced ears. “I’ve got to say that you’re pretty adorable yourself, Charlie.”
Now it was Charlotte’s turn to be surprised. “How did you know my name?!”
“Howie was taking me on a tour of Los Angeles and he said that I was allowed to take control of the CD Player. I was looking through all his CDs and I saw one marked with your name. I put it in and I heard this beautiful little voice. So, of course I had to ask who it was. Howie told me it was done by his most favorite little girl in the entire universe, Charlie Carter. So, when I saw you and how Howie smiled at you, I just knew!” Hannah explained, her southern drawl filled with a childlike animation that caused Charlotte to blossom with enthusiasm.
“Wow! What was your favorite song of mine?”
“Hmm… I’ve got to say my favorite was Poster Girl—”
“That’s not even my best stuff!” Charlotte squealed, immediately turning to her father to yank on his pants in desperate urgency. “Daddy! I like her! A lot!”
“So I noticed,” Nick chuckled, plucking her from the floor before she could completely remove his pants from his waist. He had to say he was impressed with Hannah as well. No other woman had taken such a shine to Charlotte and avoided looking at him. In fact, most women pushed Charlotte out of the way so they could reach him instead. It was a trait that he abhorred in the opposite sex. What had pushed him away from dating since her birth. But Hannah…
“Good! Daddy, tell her to come to my party!”
